


God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

by Berty



Series: The Highwayman [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four months since Daniel met Gentleman Jack, the highwayman who seduced him. Twice. As Daniel contemplates a quiet Christmas alone, events conspire to ensure that this season will be merrier than he'd imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

Daniel wound his muffler closer around his neck and tucked his hands under his arms. As the clock struck the quarter hour, he realised that perhaps taking the shortcut through the churchyard hadn't been his best idea. His boots were sodden and cold with snow, and he sent quiet curses into the heavy night air that he had ever chosen medicine as a profession. What was it about daylight hours that kept people healthy, sliding into sickness only once the sun had set?

He scowled at the cold, marble angel that loomed out of the darkness on his left and promptly walked into a snowman, left deliberately, no doubt, by the children of the village, in the very middle of the brick path.

Daniel sighed and picked himself up. Now along with his feet, his legs and rear end were numb and wet, and he squelched uncomfortably out through the lynch gate and down the little track that led to his home, lit only by the odd star that peeked through the heavy, slow moving snow clouds that deadened the air tonight.

He kicked his boots off in the porch, thankful for the glow of the lantern he had left there in the expectation that he would be returning late. Old Jeremiah's cough had been troubling him since the autumn, but with the onset of the bitter weather, it had become a painful, rattling bark that sapped the elderly man of strength, despite Daniel's help. Daniel knew there was little he could do but make Jeremiah comfortable, yet he hadn't resented the knock on his door after dinner to call him away from his book and his fireside to sit and tend him. And despite his insistence that he wanted no payment for his services, Daniel knew that in the morning there would be a rabbit, some eggs or a basket of chestnuts on his doorstep.

Daniel stepped into his little hallway and shed his sopping clothes, carrying them into the parlour and arranging them in front of the hearth. He unfastened his pocket watch from his waistcoat and put it carefully on the mantel. With just his shirt on, he bent down and stirred the fire back into life, deciding to sit and warm for a while before retiring to his cold bed.

The flames danced readily in short time and Daniel sat, watching the glow illuminate the room with its garlands of mistletoe, ivy and holly – a gift from Mrs. Treagus, his daily help. A short, plump lady with a bawdy sense of humour, Molly Treagus seemed to have no compunction about blending Christian doctrine with the more pagan rural traditions of her forefathers. Daniel, never a strongly religious man, found her customs amusing, and the greenery certainly gave his home a festive air that it would otherwise have lacked. The significance of her choice of botanical specimen hadn't been lost on him either; he knew that she worried about his lack of a wife and family, so he'd accepted the frankly fecund garlands with a wry smile and a sigh of resignation.

Daniel reached for the decanter, set thoughtfully beside his chair and poured himself a generous goblet, relishing the peace, the warmth of the brandy going down, and the soft crackle of the fire.

"I'll take one of those, if you please."

Daniel froze, only keeping a grasp on his drink through sheer willpower. This was a voice he'd thought never to hear again. He'd only known the owner of this cultured accent for a single day, yet his memory had haunted Daniel ever since.

"Gentleman Jack," Daniel said evenly, without turning, blushing already at his state of undress. "Once again you have me at a disadvantage. What brings you to my parlour on a cold Christmas Eve? I wouldn't have marked you for the kind to go a-Wassailing. And I can assure you that my fortunes have not improved since the last time we met."

"I have need of your assistance, Doctor," Jack replied in a tired, quiet voice, quite different from the teasing tone that Daniel remembered so well.

Daniel turned toward the dark corner of the room, where a darker shape sat. "From what I've read in the London Evening Post, you seem to be doing rather well for yourself. Are the King's constables finally getting a little close for your tastes?" he asked coolly.

"You could put it that way," Jack replied, and leaned his head back against the wall.

Daniel put down his goblet, took a candle from the mantel, lit it quickly and turned back to take a closer look at his uninvited guest. In the soft light from the flame, Daniel could suddenly see that this was not the same Jack he'd met all those months ago. His hair was plastered to his head and his eyes, that had shone with humour and challenge last time, seemed sunken and dull. His skin was pale and his traveling clothes were spattered with mud and dark with water.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, stepping forward and stretching out a hand to grasp his shoulder. Jack flinched away from the touch, wincing and hissing in pain.

"What happened?" Daniel asked tersely, setting the candle down on a little table and taking Jack's wrist. His fingers unerringly found Jack's pulse, which was weak but regular. Carefully Daniel folded back the thick material of Jack's coat, horrified to find his shirt and waistcoat wet and sticky with blood.

"How long ago did this happen?" Daniel demanded, crouching at Jack's feet and ripping away the material as carefully as he could. He found a sodden rag pressed to Jack's shoulder, and lifted it away cautiously. The wound was long and raw-looking, skimming the skin of his neck, the edges of it, swollen and red. Daniel could see the path of a projectile and was relieved to see that the ball had not become lodged in Jack's skin, but had instead sliced cleanly across his shoulder.

"How long, Jack?" Daniel prompted again, looking up into Jack's tired, but now gently smiling face.

"Do you know how long it took me to find out where you lived?" he asked slowly. He didn't wait for an answer. "Four months."

"It's no secret and I'm sure I cannot image why you should want to know such a thing," Daniel told him, stripping the ruined garments from Jack's upper body.

"Needed to see you," Jack slurred, rocking slightly on his stool.

"There are other doctors between here and Salisbury, Jack. You should have had this seen to at once." Daniel's fingers probed cautiously across the skin around the wound, just to be certain that no foreign bodies had remained.

"Didn't need to see a doctor, Dr. Jackson. Needed to see you," Jack gritted, breathing harder as Daniel worked.

Daniel bit down on the inappropriate thrill that warmed him and took Jack's jaw, forcing the swaying man to look at him. "When did this happen, Jack?"

Jack squinted at him and swallowed, obviously trying to concentrate. "Three... nights."

"Musket shot?"

Jack just nodded, the effort of which seemed to drain the last of his reserves as he slumped back heavily against the wall once more, his eyes shut.

Daniel quickly rose and, taking the candle, went to his consulting room. He wished he had time to at least find a pair of breeches to cover himself, but if Jack had been traveling for three days with an open wound in these kinds of weather condition, his needs outweighed Daniel's own modesty and chilliness. He took some clean cloths, a flask of alcohol and a roll of bandage.

Daniel returned to the parlour to find that Jack hadn't moved, but had stayed, pale and still in the shadows. He set down his equipment, then fetched a kettle of water, which he set on the hearth to heat.

Moving Jack closer to the fire turned out to be a Herculean task. Jack was heavy and uncoordinated, and Daniel was trying to be gentle but found it almost impossible not to manhandle his guest. Daniel had to wonder at the tenacity and iron resolve that had got Jack here at all, if he was this weak.

Finally lowering Jack into the armchair, Daniel set to work, washing the caked blood from his skin. Jack began to shiver uncontrollably, despite the warmth from the fire and Daniel willed his fingers to work faster as he got a clearer view of the extent of Jack's wound. He'd hoped that the flesh of the incision would have begun to mend, but the edges were still raw and gaping. He fetched a needle and sinew, a dark bottle and his own discarded goblet. He quickly swallowed all but a mouthful of the brandy, then carefully measured two drops from the bottle into what remained.

"Jack? Jack! Drink this," Daniel urged, holding the cup to his lips. Jack feebly swallowed a couple of sips then slipped back into sleep. Daniel hoped it would last.

Lighting every candle he could find to give him enough light, Daniel went to work. Jack didn't flinch when he wiped the wound with a generous splash of alcohol, which gave him courage. He threaded his needle with steady hands, took a deep breath, then proceeded to stitch up the ragged edges of the wound. If Jack survived this, he would always have an ugly scar there, but Daniel couldn't worry about the aesthetics of the thing; Jack had lost a lot of blood – maybe already too much.

His patient moaned several times during suturing, but it seemed that his unconscious state was indeed a blessing for now. Daniel bit off the thread, doused it with alcohol once more, then bandaged the whole shoulder. There was little more he could do, other than make Jack comfortable and hope that he was strong enough to withstand the infection that was certain to follow.

Wearily, Daniel wrapped Jack in blankets and knelt down on the fireside rug to wash his hands in the remaining hot water. Jack looked peaceful, although his tremors hadn't completely stopped. Daniel wondered about getting Jack up the narrow wooden stairs to bed, but knew that neither of them were up to the task.

The clock in the hall chimed midnight and almost immediately the church bells began to peal, strangely muffled on the snow heavy air. Their joyful clamour seemed out of place in the flickering orange light of the hearth, but Daniel stood, hesitated, and then pressed a soft kiss to Jack's hot forehead.

He knew how foolish his actions were, and indeed how foolish his whole life had become since he'd met this dangerous but appealing man. To have the strangest notions and detailed fantasies he'd had about another man... about Jack... was considered unnatural and sinful. It spoke poorly of his own character that he should so yearn for a man he barely knew, yet be all but unaware of the eligible daughters that some of this patients insisted on introducing him to and that he saw each week in the course of his work.

Of course men had been seeking the company of other men to fulfill their most base urges since time immemorial, but Daniel had never heard of there being any affection there – simply a need. Yet his own daydreams, though they contained elements of lust, were of a more gentle nature, a more permanent scenario – which was, of course, impossible. Not only for their same sex, but also from their professions, their backgrounds and their morals. Impossible.

"Merry Christmas, Jack," Daniel murmured, then blew out all but the candle closest to Jack. He wrapped himself in another rug from the blanket box, sat down in the opposite armchair and fell asleep.

It was the chime for two o'clock that woke him, although Jack was already moving restlessly and muttering. The fire had burned low with only the slightest glow coming from the embers, and the candle had long since guttered out.

Daniel fetched another candle from the dresser and lit it from the fire's remains. When he returned to Jack, he found him awake, watching him with wide, delirious eyes.

"Daniel?"

"How do you feel?" Daniel asked, touching Jack's face to check his temperature. He was unnaturally hot.

"Thought you were a dream."

"Hardly. Are you in pain? Do you need anything?"

Jack simply grunted and shifted a little. "I need to piss," he replied testily, a little more lucid.

"Very well. Do you think you can make it upstairs? "

Jack didn't reply, but Daniel decided that it was assent. He helped Jack up out of his chair, letting the injured man lean heavily against him. He could feel the tremors of effort from Jack's body as they made their slow way down the hall and up the stairs. By the time Daniel had set Jack down to sit on the bed and found him a pot, he could see the struggle of this small relocation had cost Jack dear.

"Do you need some help?" Daniel asked quietly, trying not to look at Jack fumbling to help himself. His hands were tingling, wanting to make this easier for him. He was hardly the squeamish type – he'd seen a lot worse than a man relieving himself. But he was not sure of Jack's reaction – how could he be? He barely knew him. Except that Jack had told him that he'd come all this way to find him and that he'd endured terrible conditions and almost bled to death to get here. Surely that counted for something?

Jack sighed, and Daniel hazarded a glance. Jack sat, almost bowed over, his hands uselessly on his thighs. "I suppose your help is a little better than pissing myself on your bed," he said so quietly that Daniel had to strain to hear him.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Jack. You're exhausted and feverish. There's no shame in letting me help you." He stopped without adding that Jack had nothing he hadn't seen before.

Jack didn't even lift his head, so Daniel simply stepped in and made the necessary adjustments to his clothing, tactfully averting his eyes while Jack completed his business.

Daniel dealt with the chamber pot, then returned, shivering, downstairs to fetch some wine and the bottle of laudanum. The lines around Jack's mouth, the grey of his skin around the bright pink of his cheeks and the tremors in his hands were signs that he was in pain, and more eloquent than Jack was himself currently.

He mixed a tiny amount of the dark liquid in a goblet with the wine, stirring it well and carried it back to the injured man.

Jack had slumped down onto his good shoulder, paler than ever. Daniel gently eased him onto his back, removed his still sodden boots and his breeches. He had dreamed so many times in the last months of having a naked Jack in his bed, but the reality was a lot less than he'd hoped for. In the dim glow of his candle flame, Jack's skin seemed paper-thin and sallow. The white of Daniel's bandage was barely paler than Jack himself.

Quickly Daniel put a flame to the kindling and logs that lay set in the bedroom fireplace, then pulled a blanket over Jack who shivered continuously despite his temperature. Propping Jack's head in the crook of his arm, Daniel helped him to drink the mouthful of wine that held the only drug Daniel had to offer for the pain. He hated to use it and held only the smallest amount in his home for cases such as this. He knew it had its uses, but he'd also seen those who had become so accustomed to a daily dose of laudanum that they were quite unable to do without it.

Jack settled almost immediately, and Daniel sat beside him quietly, relishing the chance to watch him as he slept for a while before he slipped into the same state himself for a short time.

Jack woke frequently, calling out in an accent Daniel didn't recognise. His temperature still raged, and his dreams were restless and filled with muttering and twitching. Daniel decided that modesty could hang itself, and he cooled Jack's overheated skin with long sweeps of a damp cloth. He wiped away sweat and at least four days of dirt from Jack's chest and legs, his arms, hands and his throat. It seemed to help Jack calm for a short while at least, but Daniel knew from the soft chimes of his mantel clock that it was close to dawn before Jack fell into a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

When Daniel awoke the next, groggy and aching, the sky was already light with strange yellow tinge that only snow clouds wore. The thick layer of snow already on the ground had a muffling effect on the world, making it sound distant and detached. Jack was still soundly sleeping, so Daniel took the opportunity to dress himself, make up the fire and prepare them some food.

Jack was hard to wake and ate only sparingly, but he drank the warmed, watered-down wine that Daniel brought him before falling back asleep. Daniel spent a good deal of time watching Jack sleep before berating himself for an idiot and going about his business. As it was Christmas Day, he had no pre-arranged appointments to attend, and instead he caught up with outstanding correspondence and some reading.

He checked on Jack half-hourly, but left him to rest when he found him still sleeping every time. At five, when darkness had fallen and the snow had finally begun to come down, he woke Jack, helped him to use the chamber pot and then tried again to entice him to eat something. Mrs. Treagus had left him a crock of soup and some bread, and he persuaded Jack to sit up and try a little.

Jack's eyes were glassy and unnaturally bright as he watched Daniel over the spoon that he held for him. He sipped at it at Daniel's insistence, but barely managed a third of his bowlful. "Thank you," he said simply after several minute's silence.

"For what? The soup?"

"For any number of things, the least of which is this fine soup," Jack said with a wry smile.

"The least? And what is the greatest, may I ask, for this is a very fine soup, in my opinion," Daniel teased, so relieved to see Jack lucid and playful.

"That kiss," Jack replied immediately.

Daniel paused with his own spoon halfway to his mouth and gaped at Jack in what must have been a quite comical fashion.

He'd never met anyone quite as forthright as Jack – the man said what he meant and no messing. In his concern for Jack's health, and the work necessary in caring for him, Daniel had almost let slip from his mind the circumstances under which they had first met.

"You thanked me once before, remember? And as I reminded you then, you had a pistol at my head," Daniel prompted his guest, replacing his spoon, untasted.

"Only the first time. The second time was your choice," Jack responded defensively, closing his eyes and smirking.

"True enough." Daniel fussed with Jack's blanket, and avoided looking at him directly, waiting until the quiet had stretched on long enough that Jack could conceivably fallen back asleep. Carefully, Daniel glanced up and was caught by Jack's naked, direct gaze.

"Why did you?" Jack asked, watching him closely.

Daniel put a spoonful of soup to Jack's lips, forcing him to drink it or wear it. Jack drank, but his eyes never left Daniel's face.

Daniel wiped away a spot of broth that had fallen onto Jack's chin. "Curiosity," he answered finally, when Jack's expectant silence became uncomfortable.

"Then I must count myself fortunate to have encountered such a very inquisitive man," Jack said with a small nod. He looked at Daniel speculatively, a smile never far from his pale lips. "And was your curiosity satisfied?"

"To a fashion. It's my nature to be eternally curious," Daniel responded, boldly holding Jack's eye.

"So it might be the kind of thing that an enquiring mind like your own would need to study further?"

Jack was toying with him; how the man had the strength, Daniel had no idea. He looked at Jack very deliberately, watching the impact of his words. "It could be, sir, but only when your health might permit such study."

"Just a kiss, Daniel," Jack said intently. "I hardly think it would be overtaxing."

"I believe it is I who has the training to decide such matters," Daniel said prissily, making a show of settling Jack's bedding more firmly about him. He stood and smiled down at Jack, about to bid him sleep once more, but something on Jack's face made him hesitate.

Jack looked hopeful, cautious and tired again, as if this were more than a simple exchange of teasing. "Please," he asked simply, moving his hand to rest against Daniel's thigh.

Daniel could not deny that he craved another taste of Jack's mouth – he had fantasised about little else since their first encounter. It was as if the touch of Jack's lips had driven away any half-formed ideas of his future and replaced them with vivid, detailed fantasies. Up to now, Daniel hadn't been a lustful kind of man as a rule, which made his enthusiastic reaction to Jack even more disturbing.

"Jack," Daniel began softly, not entirely sure of what he was going to say.

"Daniel," Jack interrupted. He swallowed noticeably. "Please."

Daniel raised a hand to Jack's newly bearded chin, running his fingers over the coarse, dark whiskers. He stooped and obliged.

Jack's mouth was gentle, compliant and as captivating as Daniel had remembered. He took nothing but that which Daniel offered. He tasted of soup and faintly of the outdoors, of wilderness and open skies. Daniel sat down again, deepening the kiss, sucking softly at Jack's bottom lip. The thrill of his blood in his veins, even from so gentle a kiss, made him feel warm for the first time in weeks. Months maybe.

He drew back finally, his devotion to this man becoming all too obvious. Jack had his eyes shut and a soft smile on his lips that Daniel recognised as affection even as he had to stop himself from kissing him again. Already Jack had begun to drift back into sleep.

Daniel sat and watched him until the ever-present church clock chimed and reminded him of the time.

Daniel slept in the little guest room that night. He'd found linens and made up the simple bed, piling it with all the blankets he could find. This room faced north and had no fireplace, so grew bitterly cold at night. He rose whenever he awoke to check on Jack, but never found him needing.

Daniel rose early next morning, knowing that Mrs. Treagus would be in. He dressed and shared a small, simple breakfast with Jack, who seemed even more reluctant to eat that day than the previous one.

He heard the redoubtable lady come in through the back door and hurried to meet her in the hallway.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Treagus. I hope you had a pleasant Christmas Day?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, I did indeed, thank you, Doctor. And yourself then?" Molly began to unwind herself from the yards of scarf and shawl that she wore.

"Yes, thank you." Daniel took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, unevenly weighted with coins and handed it to his pink-cheeked housekeeper with a warm smile and a soft "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Treagus, and thank you for all your indispensable help this year."

She beamed delightedly and impulsively wrapped her arms around him, scarf and shawl and all. "Thank you, Dr. Jackson. That's very good of you."

"You deserve twice as much again, and if I had it I would give it to you," he said rather self-consciously. He was very fond of his housekeeper, and was glad that she seemed to realise it even though he found expressing it so difficult.

"I've...uh... had an unexpected guest arrive."

Molly stopped dead, her eyes going wide and a hand going up to her mouth.

Daniel found himself feeling a little piqued. It was true, he didn't get many visitors of the non-patient variety, but she didn't have to make her surprise quite so obvious. "Yes. A... cousin. From... Oxford," Daniel lied badly, wishing he had prepared a story in advance. "Sadly his travel has taken its toll and he has come down with a most debilitating chill. I fear he has taken to his bed and it is imperative that he not be disturbed."

"Of course, Doctor. What a thing to happen when you finally have a friend to visit." Although her words were less than tactful, her open, honest expression showed genuine sorrow.

Daniel smiled tightly. "Yes. It is most upsetting. So, I shall of course pay you for the days that he is here, but I think it's best if you don't come in. I'm not certain if his condition might be contagious."

"Bless me, Dr. Jackson," she said with a rattling laugh, her face folding up with mirth. "And how do you propose to keep yourselves fed and cared for in the meantime? What a wit you are and no mistake." She dumped her hat, shawl and scarf on the coat rack and bustled past him into the kitchen.

"Really, I must insist. I would hate to feel responsible for you contracting anything unpleasant," Daniel said firmly, following along in her considerable wake.

"Oh, I shall stay away from your friend, Doctor, but I shan't leave you hungry and living in squalor. Imagine what the village would say – I'd never be forgiven." She smiled and patted his arm kindly, as if she hadn't just utterly disregarded his requests. "There was a chicken on the doorstep, good enough for a couple of meals. I think a soup would probably be best for your patient, don't you? Nice and warming and easy to get down. I'll see about it right now."

Mrs. Treagus rolled up her sleeves and set about the kitchen with a proprietorial air that made Daniel feel uncomfortably out of place. The fact that she also made shooing motions when she noticed him hesitating had him scuttling off to the comparative safety of his consulting room to ponder who employed whom in this house.

He spent the morning divided between his work and Jack's bedside. His visitor slept fitfully, but didn't wake fully until midday.

Daniel removed his bandages and checked the sutures once again, pleased to see that although red and sore, the skin around the wound was not weeping. Jack was pale and weak and a little dazed, looking around the room with interest in his more lucid moments, then watching Daniel with a glazed expression.

Daniel measured him another dose of laudanum, and after having been persuaded to sip some of the thin broth Mrs. Treagus had prepared, Jack gratefully swallowed the doctored wine. Daniel stayed until the drug took effect and Jack slipped back into sleep.

Feeling a little guilty, Daniel was nonetheless pleased to have this chance to observe Jack in the daylight. His own meetings with the man had been by candlelight at best, and Daniel hadn't been sure up to now whether his memories were a romantic figment or a real recollection.

Jack's hair was graying at the temples and around his ears. He wore it quite fashionably short, as Daniel did, and Daniel guessed that he must be around forty years old, despite his flippant manner and his youthful, cocky smile. Jack's skin looked pale on the pillow, and his stubbly beard was also flecked with silver. His face was lined around his mouth and his eyes, but they looked to Daniel to have been etched there kindly, giving his expression an overall air of experience rather than unhappiness.

Feeling rather daring if a little foolish, Daniel gently took one of Jack's hands in his own, pleased to find it reassuringly warm. And then he must have dozed off himself for the next thing he knew was an insistent knocking at his front door.

Mrs. Treagus must have already taken herself off for the day, Daniel thought as he hurried down the stairs and into the hall. He pulled open the front door to find young Sarah Bishop looking pinched and unhappy.

"Good afternoon, Sarah, what can I do for you?"

"Can you come, Doctor? It's mother, she's had the baby, but Mrs. Cartwright says she isn't doing as well as she should."

Daniel knew that Rosie Cartwright was a sensible woman and a good midwife, and she wouldn't be bothering him unless it were necessary. Cursing the timing and hoping that Jack would sleep until he returned, Daniel grabbed his coat, hat and bag, and once again stepped out into the bitter cold of the December weather.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

As tired as he felt, Daniel forced himself to the quickest pace he could manage as he made his way home. The afternoon had already given way to evening, and it was quite dark as he kept to the path to avoid the deepest snow.

Annie Bishop had been sitting up, admiring her new son when he'd left, although not three hours earlier she'd been in such a state that Daniel had doubted his intervention would help her. He rarely had to attend birthings. They were usually handled within the family, or by Rosie, who'd been doing it so long, she was now delivering babies for babies she'd delivered herself.

As he walked, Daniel couldn't help but keep his eye open for strangers. The village was small, and anyone unknown would be immediately apparent, particularly if they were on horseback and asking questions about fugitives. Jack must have done a good job of covering his tracks despite his injury, a tale that made Daniel full of admiration and pity without even knowing the details. But Daniel saw no one and the village was still, looking peaceful and welcoming with the yellow light of lamps shining through windows.

So his heart was high and hopeful when he started down his own lane, imagining Jack peacefully sleeping the afternoon away for Daniel to wake him later with a kiss and another bowl of soup. His pleasant daydreamings were somewhat shaken when he opened the gate to find the hall and bedroom windows lit from within. Jack was in no state to have gotten downstairs unaided let alone mobile and aware enough to light lamps.

He went around to the back of the house and took off his boots and coat, and walked quickly into the hall to find Mrs. Treagus sitting quietly in the hallway with her sewing in her lap.

"Good evening, Doctor. How is Annie now?"

Daniel stupidly peered toward the stairs, half expecting Jack to be there hiding.

"Sh... she's improving, Mrs. Treagus. And the baby is well."

"Well, that's a mercy," she breathed, jabbing her needle into her work and folding it into the cloth bag beside her chair.

Daniel moved cautiously around her toward the stairway, darting nervous glances between his housekeeper and the glow of the lamp in his bedroom that spilled onto the stairs.

"I'll be away now. You don't need to be worried about your cousin, none. He woke up earlier, calling for you and making a terrible fuss, so I took him some wine and some biscuits and he settled right back. Never a thank you, mind you." A little smile flittered across her face as she saw the dismay that Daniel knew he had no chance of hiding.

She began the production of re-wrapping herself in her shawls and scarf while Daniel tried to find something to say and shifted from foot to foot. She made him feel like a naughty child, rather than a man harbouring a fugitive from the law who was also his erstwhile lover.

"I... I hope... He wasn't... That is..."

"Calm yourself, Dr. Jackson. I wasn't a-spying 'pon your guest. I'd just popped back to drop in some cake for your tea when I heard him wailing for you – and such language! Taught me a few I didn't know, I can tell you!" She laughed as if such things happened to her everyday. "It's plain to see the man is sickly, and what was I to do? Leave him to yell?"

Daniel passed a hand over his eyes and wondered where to begin. His lie had been laid bare, was it even worth concocting another? She can't have helped but notice the bandages and Daniel tried to think of some plausible reason why a chill patient might have need of such doctoring. Or for the pistols which sat upon the bedside table.

"Mrs. Treagus," he began quietly, but she flipped the last yard of scarf over her shoulder and cut him off.

"It's none of my business, Doctor. And none of nobody else's. I mean to keep it that way," she stated with finality. "You're just doing your job. And now I've done mine, so I'll be off. Mr. Treagus gets into a terrible to do if he's left hungry too long."

She began her jaunty waddle to the back door with a cheerful wave.

"Mrs. Treagus... Molly," Daniel called after her. She turned with a delighted smile on her honest face. "Thank you," Daniel murmured and nodded, aware that his words were inadequate, but at a loss for the right thing to say.

She shook her head and chuckled at him, then went out through the door letting in an icy blast of cold air.

Daniel took the stairs two at a time in a manner he hadn't tried since he was a child. He stopped at the door to his room and looked in cautiously.

Jack was propped up on an extra pillow and looked weak and slightly feverish, but his eyes were piercing and intelligent. "That woman... that is a woman, is it not?" he asked when he saw Daniel.

Daniel smiled and nodded, entering the room and walking to Jack's bedside. He took his arm and felt at his wrist for his pulse. It was a little thready, but improving day by day.

"That alleged woman is the most fearsome, unsympathetic, hard-hearted creature I have ever met." Jack paused to cough, a hacking, gasping episode that left him pale. "Do not let her come up here ever again," Jack whispered, giving him a feeble glare.

"Molly Treagus is a treasure, and twice the man you'll ever be," Daniel said softly, letting his fingers linger on Jack's wrist.

Jack smiled slowly in return.

"You seem better tonight. How do you feel?" Daniel screwed up his courage and pushed the sweaty hair off Jack's face.

"Pathetic. Tired. Bored. Useless," Jack moaned, leaning gently into Daniel's touch.

"Well, if you are well enough to complain, then you're certainly improved," Daniel told him.

"Lonely," Jack added after a moment, his eyes flicking up to Daniel's face. "Where were you?"

"I had to attend to a woman in the village. I'm sorry I left you alone, but she needed my help."

Jack seemed to take this in his stride, then looked at Daniel shrewdly. "You look tired," he muttered. "You work too hard."

Daniel laughed and sat down in the chair pulled up to Jack's bedside – the chair he'd been sleeping in on and off for the last few nights. "I must admit that I could use some rest. Once I've settled you and re-stocked my bag, I'll get myself to bed."

"The harridan left you some supper in the scullery – she told me to tell you," Jack said with a sniff, obviously not used to being on the receiving end of an order.

Daniel nodded and wearily rose again. "I should do that now, if I sit down, I'll pass out." He walked to the door.

"Could you..."

Daniel turned and looked expectantly at Jack.

"Would you fetch your supper and eat it up here, with me?" Jack asked a little defensively. "I'm so bored, Daniel. I'd like to talk, if you're amenable."

"Yes, of course," Daniel said, surprised. Jack really was improving if he could put aside his pain and discomfort enough to be craving social interaction.

Daniel fetched his supper of his favourite chicken pie, a couple of apples and some wine and put them on a tray. He then went to the shelves in his parlour and picked a couple of books he thought might amuse Jack. He locked up the house and wound the clock. He filled his bag with the tools of his trade in case he was called out overnight and banked the fire in the parlour for the night.

Bringing his spoils to the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of Jack's bed and smiled at his patient. Jack had read all three books, but thanked him and said he'd meant to read Robinson Crusoe again. He also accepted some slices of the sweet, slightly wrinkled apples which pleased Daniel, although he refused a share of Mrs. Treagus' excellent pie.

Daniel stood, when their meal was done, placing everything neatly on the tray for the morning. He put another log on the fire and placed the guard in front in case of sparks.

"Shall I extinguish the lamp before I go or do you want to read?"

Jack seemed undecided. "Would you stay?" he asked quietly. "Just for a little longer? Maybe read to me for a short while?"

Daniel was tired, exhausted, but the opportunity to spend more time with Jack, and the wistful nature of the request was too great to ignore. He pulled off his boots and his waistcoat, smiling when Jack recognised his pocket watch. He went to sit in his usual chair, knowing full well that he would spend at least a part of the night sleeping in it. He hoped his back would forgive him.

"No," Jack said quickly when Daniel made to sit. "Would you sit beside me?" He slid himself carefully across the bed, putting his injured shoulder on the outside and patting the newly created space.

Daniel hesitated, and Jack said quickly, "That fishwife changed all the linens – made me sit in your chair, she did. Witch. So it's all fresh."

Daniel smiled softly. "That wasn't my concern, Jack, I can assure you."

"Daniel, I'm flattered that you think I have the energy to impose upon you for anything but your company, but I can assure you that your integrity is quite safe from me tonight."

And, damn him, Jack looked quite hurt that Daniel could even have considered such a thing.

"It was not my own integrity that troubled me," Daniel said with a slight smile. "I may be tired, but you seem to have a way of making me do things I didn't know I was capable of."

Jack seemed inordinately pleased at this, and patted the bed again more forcefully, obviously scenting a victory.

With a sigh that wasn't entirely put-upon, Daniel settled himself beside Jack and picked up the volume of Robinson Crusoe.

"I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family..."

Jack slid closer, gently, careful not to jostle himself, although Daniel thought that his intent was also to touch without being called upon it.

"...tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull..."

Jack's head softly landed on Daniel's shoulder, and when Daniel glanced across, Jack was intently looking at the text, his face a study in concentration. With a small smile, Daniel continued.

"He got a good Estate by Merchandise and leaving off his Trade lived afterwards at York from whence he had married my Mother."

Jack's hand landed gently on Daniel's thigh, a severe distraction that he attempted to ignore.

"Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family at Country, and from whom I was called Robinson Keutznaer, but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now called... Jack!"

"That's not what it says." Jack blinked with an innocence so exaggerated, blind men could have discerned it.

Daniel lifted Jack's hand off his thigh from where it had been stroking circles against his breeches, and had already migrated a good inch higher than where it had begun.

Daniel closed the book with a thump and shook his head as Jack sat up again. He had the grace to look somewhat abashed, but his dark eyes were less than repentant.

"You need to rest," Daniel told him, his traitorous lips curling into a smile at Jack's nerve.

"I'll rest if you stay," Jack said immediately, and Daniel knew right then that Jack would make a full recovery. If his ability to negotiate an outcome to his satisfaction had recovered this quickly, then man himself would be up inside a day or two and gone out into the wide world again by New Year's Day.

The rush of loss that accompanied that thought had Daniel quite taken aback.

"Please, Daniel," Jack pressed, taking Daniel's silence for hesitation.

Daniel turned to face Jack, and looked at him. This was not what he had expected at all. This was not the Gentleman Jack he read about in the newspaper who was charming and cutting in the same breath. Whose daring raids left people as unsettled by the coldness of his heart as by the civility of his tongue. This was not the kind of man who sought the company of other men for the gratification of his body – as a thing to work out his desires on.

Daniel knew that Jack had shot people, although the reports had implied that Jack had never killed in cold blood and that his pistol had only been fired when he himself had been fired upon. He knew that Jack had robbed people and left them terrified. And equating what he knew about this man from those reports, and what he had read of the kind of man who lusted after men, with the man in his bed was something that would not resolve in his mind.

There was a warmth in Jack's eyes that was not lust, just as he'd noticed even on their very first meeting. There was a gentleness in Jack's words that asked and didn't demand. And there was a longing in Jack's soul that something in Daniel's heart heard and had to reply to.

Jack's expression had become wary with waiting. His chin was lifted and his head cocked, as if he expected something unpleasant.

Wordlessly, Daniel slipped from the bed, and with steady competent fingers, so different from the trembling of four months past, he unbuttoned his breeches, untied his drawers and slid them down off his hips and into a pile on the floor.

Jack's eyes warmed with something Daniel was too afraid to name as he pulled off his stockings and went to his chest for a nightshirt. Unlike the last time they had lain together, there were good reasons for having more layers of material between them this time.

Daniel turned away from Jack and took off his shirt and collar, and pulled the simple cotton nightshirt over his head. With a previously undiscovered certainty, Daniel turned out the lamp and climbed into bed next to Jack, careful not to shake or jostle him.

The fire fizzed softly in the grate, and Daniel's eyes adjusted to the low, orange-tinged light that it cast across the bed. Jack's head was turned toward him, a small happy smile on his face so different to the usual cockiness or sarcasm.

"So, is this curiosity too, Daniel?" Jack asked, settling into his pillows.

"Perhaps," Daniel admitted.

"If not that, then what?" Jack pushed.

"It's a cold night, and my guest bedroom has no fire," Daniel told him with a trace of sharpness to his tone. He wasn't going to be the one to put a name to the insanity they were pursuing. If Jack wanted labels for their actions then he could provide his own.

"Come closer then, Daniel, if you're cold," Jack said sweetly, ignoring Daniel's pique.

With a rustle of bedclothes and a little maneuvering they managed to find a position that suited them both. Jack lay on his back, and Daniel was curled at his side, head on his good shoulder, with his arm and leg laid across Jack's body.

Jack sighed contentedly and softly.

"You haven't had your dose of Laudanum tonight," Daniel remembered as Jack relaxed beside him. "Shall I fetch it for you?"

"No need, Daniel. I've never felt better."

Daniel knew this to be a lie, but he didn't have the heart to call Jack on it, touched and surprised by the romantic gesture. And he was secretly pleased that Jack had refused the opiate.

Jack's body was indeed warm, and his hand stroking Daniel's hair was both calming and distracting at the same time. Daniel, although tired and content, felt his body begin to respond to the proximity of his bed partner. He hardened steadily, despite willing himself to sleep until he had to shift his hips away from Jack's thigh or risk apprising him of his inappropriate response.

But Jack was smarter than that. He chuckled quietly at Daniel's restless shifting. "You know, I'm flattered, Daniel, but as willing as I may feel, I really don't think I'm going to be able to help."

"Go to sleep," Daniel said sternly, cursing his treacherous cock. "I don't need your help."

"Now that's a very good point," Jack replied, his voice becoming thoughtful. "And a better idea." He pulled his arm from beneath Daniel's head and slowly rolled onto his side to face him, his hisses of discomfort not quite quiet enough for Daniel to miss.

"Jack..." Daniel began, sitting up to help him.

"Shhh!" Jack told him, and finally settled into the pillows. He reached up cautiously with his injured arm and laid a hand on Daniel's chest. It was the intent that brought Daniel back down to the mattress rather than any weight Jack could put behind it.

"Let me watch, please, Daniel?"

"What?" Daniel asked, confused. He looked into Jack's dark gaze for some hint at what he was asking for so humbly.

"I want to see you. Please. Touch yourself, Daniel."

Daniel's blush was instant and it felt like it covered his entire body. He had no idea if this was something that lovers usually shared, but it wasn't something he'd ever done before in front of an audience. In fact, he'd only ever pleasured himself in that way beneath the blankets of his bed and hadn't even dared to look at himself, which, frankly, was ridiculous for a physician.

"Jack..." Daniel said hesitantly.

"Please, Daniel. You want to. I want you to. And I can't help you this time. If I may... watch you, I could... pretend that it was my hand on you... touching you..."

Daniel's cock throbbed unhelpfully and he bit back the moan that Jack's shameless words caused.

"I don't... I don't know if I can. If you're watching," Daniel murmured awkwardly, although his dick was telling him he definitely could. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling and wondered if the top of his head might just fly off if it had to make another of these sudden adjustments that Jack's company seemed to demand of him.

Jack's hand on his chest was warm and soothing until it inched lower and began to rub big circles over Daniel's belly, hitching up his nightshirt with each firm stroke.

Daniel's fingers itched to touch Jack, to show him the kind of anticipation he felt, laying next to him this night. But Jack really wasn't ready for the demands of even the most gentle lovemaking, no matter how sharp his tongue was or how filthy his mind.

The next pass of Jack's hand swept lower and passed softly over Daniel's groin, making him shiver. Jack stopped pretending, and gently pulled the hem of Daniel's nightshirt up to his waist, leaving him naked below it.

Jack's fingers were clumsy when he took Daniel in hand, and Daniel could feel the tremors as Jack taxed muscles that were still recovering.

Slowly, Daniel reached down and pulled Jack's hand off him, placing it gently over his heart instead. Then he took himself in a loose, easy grip and stroked experimentally.

"I can't see you," Jack whispered, his breath ghosting across Daniel's neck and making him harder still.

Daniel took a deep breath and began to inch the bedclothes down off his body. Jack eased himself up, so he was lying on his good arm, his elbow tucked beneath his head. There was barely enough light to see, but Jack hummed appreciatively when Daniel kicked the blankets down the last few inches and uncovered his cock.

The bite of the cold air was surprisingly good against Daniel's skin, and he began to stroke himself slowly. Jack's eyes were darkness, hidden in shadows, but Daniel could see the tip of his tongue peeking between his lips as Daniel worked his cock, quicker now, and the sensations in him began to build. He bent his knees, his hips rising, pushing himself into the grip of his fist.

Daniel could hear Jack's breathing coming faster, matching his own. When he opened his eyes, Jack was craning his neck, trying to see what Daniel's hand was doing. In a confusion of concern and uncharacteristic immodesty, Daniel rolled onto his side, then pushed up onto his knees, kneeling halfway up the bed where Jack could lay back and appreciate the view. With one hand tangled in his nightshirt, keeping it up and the other fisted around his cock, Daniel felt exposed beyond anything he'd ever before experienced. But Jack's wide eyes and bitten lip were more than enough incentive to continue. He couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to.

Looking down at his own body, made ruddy and golden by the firelight, Daniel was surprised to learn how very right it felt. Something that he'd always thought to be a shameful, dirty necessity had become an act of love when shared with the man beside him. It was as if his own body, which Daniel had always considered too thin or too pale or too weak, had become something other simply by the weight of Jack's gaze upon him; Daniel saw himself through Jack's eyes. He saw the leanness of his belly and the sharpness of his hips, the dark tangle of hair at his groin and the arch of his cock as something to be desired and appreciated rather than ignored and ashamed of.

He slowed his hand again, teasing himself, pulling back from his climax. He paused, cradling his balls, then dragged his thumbnail up the underside of his shaft. All the while he watched Jack, whose breathing seemed to hasten and slow in time with Daniel's hand. When Daniel began to stroke himself again with intent, Jack lifted his eyes and stared into Daniel's face. Jack's expression was hard to read, but Daniel could see that along with lust and yearning there was also gratitude and tenderness.

Under Jack's gaze, Daniel's release built dizzyingly quickly, pooling in his balls and making his toes curl and his teeth clench. With a grunt, Daniel looked down in time to see the first pulse of his cock force semen through his fingers to stripe his belly. Then Jack's hand was on him, making his second pulse even stronger. With Jack's fingers curled protectively around his dick, Daniel trembled through the rest of his orgasm. His touch was soothing him, gently bringing Daniel down. Limbs clumsy from pleasure, he let Jack pull him back down onto his chest and cover him with their shared blankets.

"Promise me you'll do that for me again sometime, Daniel?" Jack murmured into Daniel's hair, kissing his forehead and rubbing his stubbled chin against his scalp. "When I'm recovered?"

It was the first time that Jack had talked about the future, and if Daniel hadn't been so warm and tired, he might have pressed for more, however dangerous that might be. But instead he hummed softly, lulled by the steady rhythm of Jack's heart.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

Once again, Daniel was woken by knocking from his front door. Moving carefully so as not to waken Jack, he slid from the bed and pulled on the dressing gown that hung on the back of his bedroom door.

He moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, peering down to see who was knocking early enough for the sky to still be mostly dark. He could see a shape standing just outside the little porch and opened the window, gritting his teeth against the blast of icy air that entered.

"Who's there?"

"Dr. Jackson?" The figure took a couple of steps back and looked up, and Daniel could just make out the pale, solemn face of Alice Huggett.

"You grandfather?" Daniel asked quickly and was unsurprised when the girl nodded. "I'll be along right away."

Daniel shut the window and began to dress. He hoped, as he pulled on the previous day's clothes, that he didn't smell too strongly of Jack or of his activities from the previous night although he doubted that Jeremiah would care either way.

"Duty calls?"

"Jack," Daniel sighed. "I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, it's not yet light."

"I hope your patients appreciate you, Doctor. They are uniquely fortunate to have such a dedicated man as yourself."

"It's a physician's oath, Jack. Any other would do the same," Daniel replied blandly but secretly cherishing the warmth of Jack's approbation.

"Not in my experience," Jack said cryptically and pulled the covers up around his ears, burrowing into the warm hollow that Daniel had just vacated.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

Jeremiah was weaker than ever, each breath seemed to be an effort of will. But the old man's eyes were bright and lucid, even as his body was failing him.

His family had made up a bed for him in the little room they used as a parlour. A fire burned bright in the grate, and the old man was swathed in what must have been every blanket the family possessed.

The air in the room was smoky and close, and Daniel worried about how healthy an atmosphere the old man was breathing, but he knew that Jeremiah's daughter had done what she could to make him comfortable. At this point Daniel knew there was very little that could be done, so let him be warm and well-loved, and let his family think that they had helped by burning enough wood to have kept them warm for a month.

"Would you like some tea, Dr. Jackson?" Alice asked, hovering at Daniel's side as he examined Jeremiah.

"No thank you, Miss Huggett, although I'm sure your grandfather would be glad of a cup."

The old man's skin was papery thin and grayish, his ribs starkly outlined in the candlelight. His belly caved in with every breath.

"Are you in pain, my friend?" Daniel asked softly when Alice was gone.

Jeremiah's eyes twinkled with humour and Daniel could discern in them something of the vital head of the Huggett household he'd first met on his arrival only four years ago.

"Yes," he breathed. "But don't... tell... the girl."

Daniel wasn't sure whether he meant Alice, his practical, sober granddaughter or Jane, his daughter and Alice's mother, who was anything but.

"I can give you something to help you sleep," Daniel said, helplessly, resting his palm over the old man's skeletal hand.

"Sleep soon... enough," Jeremiah whispered. "It's been... good."

Daniel watched Jeremiah struggle to find the breath to explain. He knew the cost that the man was paying to have his say, but respected his right to say it, and didn't shush him.

"A happy... life... Not every... everyone... can... say that... can they?"

"No. No they can't," Daniel agreed with a smile. "You've been blessed."

"Blessed!" the old man barked and amazed Daniel with a whistling laugh which ended up as a cough. "Not blessed... Doctor... fought... tooth... tooth and... bloody nail... for it."

Daniel laughed softly. "You always were a stubborn man, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah nodded. "Like yourself." He closed his eyes, fading fast now.

"Do you want... should I call Father Matthias?" Daniel asked gently.

Jeremiah coughed, long and weak, unable to catch his breath between spasms, and Daniel felt utterly useless, only able to hold his hand and rub his bony back. His lips were blue when he finally stopped. His eyes were closed and his hands shook, and Daniel gently wiped away the trail of spittle from the corner of the old man's mouth with his handkerchief.

"Call him," Jeremiah rasped, impressing Daniel with his tenacity. "Not for me... but... it will... let Jane... rest easy."

Daniel squeezed Jeremiah's hand and went to send one of his grandsons for the priest.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

It was mid-morning when Daniel arrived home. Mrs. Treagus was already about her work, the soft noises of her movements soothing in their familiarity.

Instead of going straight up to Jack, Daniel turned left into the parlour. The fire wasn't lit, but it had already been made up, ready for a spark when needed.

Daniel sat down wearily in his armchair, closed his eyes and sighed, pleased for the peace of his own home. He thought about Jeremiah, and the family now grieving in the little house at the end of the village, Jane wailing out her heart and Alice, sad but dry-eyed, trying to console her. He wondered whether they even had the money to bury the old man properly.

"Are you alright, Daniel?"

For some reason Daniel wasn't surprised to see Jack in the doorway, wrapped in his own dressing gown and leaning on the jamb.

"I'm well enough," Daniel replied, and watched as Jack carefully made his way across the room to sit opposite him.

"I heard you come in." Jack suddenly looked concerned. "If you want to be alone, I can..."

"No," Daniel said quickly. "No, I was just thinking."

"Did the old man..." Once again, Jack let his sentence drift off without finishing it.

"He died."

"I'm sure there was nothing you could have done to prevent that." Jack looked determined, and Daniel felt a flicker of warmth at his certainty.

"There wasn't. And he was ready," Daniel said, the words feeling quite meaningless and doing nothing to salve sensation of helplessness that afflicted him.

Mrs. Treagus came in with tea and biscuits without having been asked. She nodded at Daniel's heartfelt thanks and turned without a word.

"Cailleach," Jack muttered.

"Beelzebub," came the quick, quiet response as the lady left the room.

Daniel raised his eyebrows at Jack who looked back at him unrepentantly.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

When Daniel climbed the stairs to bed that night, he did so with a feeling of underachievement. He'd sat in his office all afternoon, replying to mail, placing orders and generally catching up with his work. December was a quiet time of year other than for the complications that came with colds and the frightening threat of influenza. The cold and early darkness kept people at home unless they had to be out, minimizing the chances of infectious diseases spreading. These were the days when the elderly suffered most, but Daniel wasn't often called out to such cases, death by old age being regarded as part of way of things. On top of that, the people of his parish were not the wealthy families he had once tended in London; they were simple, country-folk who knew a thing or two about hardship and mostly ignored the everyday aches and pains which had once been Daniel's bread and butter.

He had a few local families of good standing who called upon him when they were in the county, but the patient who Daniel had been treating the night he'd met Jack was very much the exception to his normal clientele. Of course, moving out here had meant a downturn in Daniel's fortunes, but he couldn't find it in himself to miss his time in the city. And besides, the postman now had a bicycle on which he did his deliveries, and London was only a ha'penny and a day away by mail.

He had persuaded Jack back to bed after lunch with a promise that he would read to him later that night if he took a nap. Daniel hadn't heard from him since, and when he'd checked he'd found him obediently fast asleep. Mrs. Treagus had taken up a tray with Jack's supper on it before she'd left with the comment that even Old Nick had to eat.

Daniel hoped that there weren't to be any emergencies that night. The weather had warmed somewhat, and the snow had begun to melt, leaving stark patches of brown and green where the sunlight reached, but it was still cold and grey.

As he reached the top of the stairs, Daniel paused. He wondered whether to slip into the guest room and try to sleep in the cold, narrow bed. He felt strangely disconnected after his behaviour last night and his patient this morning. He wasn't sure of anything anymore and that included his reasons for being in Jack's bed.

"Come to bed, Daniel." Jack's voice was pitched low and seemed to come in direct response to Daniel's thoughts.

Caught, he walked to the door of his bedroom. Jack was sitting up in bed under his own steam. Robinson Crusoe was lying on the bedside table, and Jack (or Mrs. Treagus) had removed the pistols from the dresser. Jack had on one of Daniel's nightshirts, and his colour was greatly improved.

Daniel made no move to enter the room, but stood in the doorway, watching Jack and wondering how his life had taken this unexpected twist.

Jack's welcoming smile faded slowly away and his expression became cautious and speculative. "Have I outstayed my welcome here, Dr. Jackson?" he asked softly after a few moments of quiet contemplation on both sides. His hands slid across his sheets without purpose and he dropped his gaze to watch their path.

"No," Daniel said calmly, knowing it for the truth as he said it.

"Then what?" Still Jack wouldn't look at him, preferring to watch out the dark window.

Daniel sighed, the melancholy of the day making him restless. "Why are you here, Jack?"

Jack's head came around slowly, his eyebrows raised, maybe in surprise, maybe in question. How would Daniel know?

His lips moved briefly, but he made no sound, only licked his bottom lip.

Daniel pushed away from the door and entered the room that he'd never be able to think of solely as his again. He crossed to the end of the bed and watched Jack's eyes become wary and defensive.

"I thought I was a dead man," he said eventually as his fingers picked up their stroking again.

It was one of the answers that Daniel had predicted, although it wasn't a full response. "Why wait until then?"

Daniel watched his words hit home again; Jack's shoulders shifting uncomfortably.

"What would you have me say, Daniel?" Jack's hands stopped their nervous dance and he laid them carefully by his side, meeting Daniel's gaze head-on. He looked like a condemned man, awaiting his sentence, Daniel thought.

"The truth. If you have it in you to tell."

Jack's smile was short and bitter, like he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "Have I lied to you, Daniel?" he asked. "I needed a doctor and I remembered that you lived in the vicinity."

"You looked for me for four months," Daniel said without inflection.

Jack's gaze sharpened. "Who told you that?"

"You told me yourself on the night you arrived. You also told me that you didn't need a doctor, you needed me." Daniel was watching for a reaction, but Jack had recovered himself and gave him no such satisfaction.

"I was delirious. You of all men should know that you shouldn't trust the ramblings of a delirious man, Daniel."

"And that is what I told myself, Jack, but I've come to doubt it."

Jack lay back and turned his head into his pillow. "I'm tired. I need to sleep." He closed his eyes deliberately, cutting Daniel off entirely.

Poised between anger and disappointment, Daniel banked the fire for the night and extinguished the lamp beside Jack's bed.

"Goodnight, Jack," Daniel murmured and started toward the door.

"You know why."

Daniel stopped and closed his eyes. He felt relief swell in his belly and chest. Although Jack's words had been quiet, he'd made sure they would reach Daniel's ears.

"I didn't know... I... hoped..." How could Daniel explain the impossibility of his desires? What words could encompass the lunacy of his imaginings?

"You were all I could think about. I've stayed away, I haven't imposed upon your good nature or your pity again. I didn't want to ruin your reputation or bring down the King's men on you. But when I was shot, I didn't think... I thought I was dying. And I wanted to see you one more time."

Jack had rolled onto his good side and was little more than a heavy shape beneath the blankets as he spoke.

"And now that you have?" Daniel asked slowly.

"I... I'm not going to die."

"No," Daniel agreed.

Jack sighed and rolled onto his back again. He pushed himself up higher in the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "And again I ask you, what would you have me say?" he demanded, exasperated. "What could I tell you that would make a difference to the people we are or the lives we lead? We're both men, Daniel. I'm a criminal and you're a physician. No matter what I say to you, it cannot change the fact that we are what we are. There is no place for men like us. Things will come to pass as they are meant to – you to the altar with a pretty girl of good stock and me to the gallows. Maybe not this year, or next, but someday. And there's no point in discussing it or considering what might have been when there's nothing we can do about it."

Daniel knew that Jack's words were no more or less than the truth, but still he couldn't help the bleakness that filled him. "So knowing that, how do we continue? What do we do now?"

"We go to bed, Daniel. We give each other what we can. And the rest of it we endure."

The regret was too great to bear. Jack was so matter of fact about their choices, but Daniel felt the burn of injustice and the bitterness of sorrow too keenly to hide his feelings. "But I..."

"Don't!" Jack yelped, took a deep breath and said more quietly, "Don't even think it. It won't help. Those words... they're not for us."

There was regret on Jack's face too, plain even in the flickering shadows from the fire. He smiled gently at Daniel and leaned over to turn back the sheets from the opposite side of the bed in an obvious invitation.

When Daniel slowly undressed it was nothing like any of his other encounters with Jack. Jack's eyes rested on him with a kind of sweet desperation in them as Daniel pulled on his nightshirt and climbed in beside him.

There was no hurry this time, no expectations or playful exchanges. Jack wrapped his good arm around Daniel's neck and held him tightly as they traded soft, slow kisses, each segueing into the next, neither of them willing to be the one to stop first. The scratch of Jack's beard was unusual and exciting and contrasted perfectly with the smoothness of his lips.

They had reached a tenuous understanding, and although it wasn't, and never could be, the things Daniel dreamed of, it also wasn't the emptiness that Daniel had feared. Somehow, the words they hadn't said were louder than the ones they had.

"Jeremiah said today...he said that he'd been happy, and that not many men could say that," Daniel whispered into the silence as they lay and looked at each other, their mouths warm and sweet with kissing.

"Then he was a lucky man," Jack replied softly.

"He also said that he'd had to fight hard for his happiness – that none of it hade come for free."

"Then he was a wise man too. Happiness isn't always where you expect it to be, and if you do find it, you're a fool if you give it up without a struggle."

The church clock chimed, but Daniel didn't bother to count the bells as he usually did.

It was a gift to be able to touch Jack properly, his injury notwithstanding. Daniel's hands soon became tired of the weave of the cotton nightshirt and slipped beneath to Jack's warm skin. Daniel hardened slowly, taking his time to stroke and smooth every inch of Jack's body, learning and relishing as he went. When he came to the coarse hair of his groin, Daniel was surprised and gratified to find Jack stiffening too.

If he'd taken his time over Jack's skin, he moved even slower now. He curled his fingers around Jack's balls, feeling the weight and coolness of them. He traced his fingers up the length of Jack's shaft, enjoying the hard silkiness pulsing in time with Jack's breaths. He ran a thumb around the flare beneath the head of his cock, learning the shape and stickiness of it, and its sensitivity from the way Jack arched and groaned.

"I want..." Jack murmured, "I want you to fuck me."

Daniel shivered at the coarse language, but his dick throbbed, aching and needy. Of course he knew the word, but no one had ever said it to him directly before, or with intent. Daniel held Jack's length in his hand protectively, squeezing gently. "I don't... I don't know..."

"Oil or grease. Something to help..." Jack panted.

Daniel found his way back to his consulting room without stopping to light a candle. He knew that if he paused to think, good sense would prevail and he'd talk himself out of what they were about to do. There would be tomorrow and the next day, and the next for rationality and secrets, but tonight, Daniel knew they both needed this connection, this affirmation. He took what he needed quickly from his cupboard and returned to Jack, who welcomed him with deep kisses.

"What do I do?" Daniel asked, too desperate to consider his embarrassment at his lack of skill. Jack needed him and he needed Jack – he would ask as many questions as necessary to give Jack what he wanted.

"You need to put it in me, and on you," Jack huffed against his mouth.

With hands that shook with excitement more than fear, Daniel helped Jack to roll onto his good shoulder, presenting Daniel with Jack's pale back. Daniel took a moment to kiss all the places he had missed in his previous exploration of Jack's body.

He reached for the bottle of almond oil and slicked up his fingers, his heart hammering at the intimacy they were about to share. Pressing his mouth to Jack's back, Daniel gently touched Jack's arse, easily finding the warm cleft between his buttocks.

Jack bent the knee of his top leg, opening himself as best he could, and Daniel slid his fingers down until they caught at Jack's opening.

Jack's hole was more than a little tight, but the oil was smooth and fine, and he managed to slide in one finger to the knuckle. Jack's back flexed and rippled beneath his lips as he fought to accommodate him. Daniel had no idea if he was doing it correctly, but he worked the oil into Jack's skin with a stroking motion, his finger going a little deeper each time.

Adding more oil, Daniel went back with two fingers and Jack froze at his side, moaning gently. Somehow Daniel knew that they weren't sounds of distress, but he also knew that Jack was working hard to allow Daniel such intimate entrance to his body, and he slowed his hand, using sweeping, twisting motions of his wrist, feeling the sleek heat of Jack's body stretch around him.

With three fingers, Daniel had to move slower still, but the sensation of Jack's muscles working and rippling under his fingertips was more than compensation for having to take his time.

The noises Jack made were driving Daniel demented with lust. His throaty moans and hitching breaths made Daniel so hard he could feel every beat of his heart bounce his cock against his belly. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek and concentrated on the oil he was working into every inch of Jack's hole.

"Enough. That's enough," Jack finally gasped. "Put some on yourself and do it."

Daniel's hands had already reached for the bottle once again and were smoothing the sweet oil onto his own hot skin before Jack had finished speaking.

Settling himself at Jack's back, Daniel kissed between his shoulder blades and took himself in hand. He found Jack's loosened entrance quickly, and lined up his slippery cock. Despite all the work Daniel had done, Jack was still tight, and he had to push harder than he'd hoped before Jack's body yielded to him.

Jack was nothing like Daniel's own fist, and therefore like nothing Daniel had ever experienced or even imagined. It was hot and tight fitting and stretched so perfectly around Daniel's cock that he groaned in ecstasy as he inched himself into that sleek embrace.

Jack was still in Daniel's arms as he sank slowly into him, and only his panting breaths told Daniel that he was with him, trying to help.

When Daniel was firmly snugged up against Jack's arse, he relaxed against Jack's back, stroking and petting wherever his hands could reach. He took his time to fit them together as well as he could, his thigh over Jack's, his knees tucked behind, until he was happy that they were as close as they could be. With courage that was becoming second nature, Daniel slid a hand down Jack's belly to find his cock. But instead of the warm, solid length he'd been toying with earlier, he found Jack had softened.

With his heart suddenly obstructing his throat, Daniel spoke. "Jack? I've hurt you?"

Jack's voice didn't sound pained, for which Daniel was grateful. Instead he sounded sleepy and somewhat dazed. "No, not hurt. 'Sgood."

"But you're..." Daniel squeezed Jack's cock gently, still loving the feel of it in his hand despite its softness.

"I'm well, Daniel, don't worry. And I don't know if I can come anyway. I've been sick, you know."

Daniel smiled at Jack's teasing and bit at his good shoulder a little in retaliation. "But isn't it usually good for both? I want it to be good for you."

"It's good, Daniel. Whether I can or not, it is still good to feel you inside me."

Daniel wanted to be assured. He wanted to believe Jack. The heat and grasp of Jack's hole was a dizzying sensation, constantly demanding his attention. The need to pull out and press back in harder was so great Daniel could taste it.

"I want to... Are you sure? Can I...?"

"Yes. Do it" Jack murmured, shifting his leg a little higher on the mattress.

Daniel snaked his arm around Jack's waist and held on tight as he began to move his hips. Slowly at fist, finding his way, the glut of feeling rippling out of his groin and into every part of his body was almost frightening in its intensity.

Jack hummed his approval, and strained back, moving into Daniel's rhythm. This made Daniel even bolder, and he hooked his arm beneath Jack's top leg and gently lifted it, moving deeper still inside Jack's body, shifting to fill the space he had created between them.

He could feel himself cresting, reaching the point where nothing could stop him from releasing into Jack's beautiful arse. In a moment of lucidity he finally understood the rightness of Jack's words. Fuck was the only word he could think of to explain this coursing emotion, this imperative to possess and mark. He'd always thought it a low, basic term for something that should be much more, but now he knew better. There was no lack of understanding between them, no barrier to their sentiments. Instead it spilled over into this boundless expression of physicality. It was something to be shared, the participation of two who were prepared to be wholly honest and unashamed of their lust for the other.

His panting mouth pressed to Jack's sweaty skin, Daniel came in long, overwhelming pulses, his limbs trembling as he emptied everything he had and felt into Jack's welcoming body.

Jack's hand fumbled behind him, clumsily stroking Daniel's hip and thigh while Daniel recovered. He slipped out gently and rolled onto his back, pulling Jack with him down to the mattress.

Jack made a content little huff and turned his head for a kiss that Daniel was glad to oblige with.

His curiosity got the better of him again, and Daniel skimmed a hand down Jack's damp, hairy chest and over his belly to find Jack's cock. He wasn't fully hard, but neither was he in the softened state Daniel had been so confounded by earlier.

Daniel rolled up onto his elbow and looked at Jack, rumpled and smiling slightly.

"I told you it probably wouldn't happen. You didn't do anything wrong," Jack murmured to him, sleepy again.

"Can I touch?" Daniel asked.

Jack shrugged with his good shoulder and smiled his amusement at Daniel's insistence. "Just don't expect miracles, Daniel."

Daniel pulled down Jack's shirt to his hips to keep him warm, put pillows behind his head and neck, then carefully crawled down to kneel between Jack's spread legs. Jack had done this for him in the carriage on that first night, a scene Daniel had played over repeatedly in his mind in the months since. He wasn't sure exactly how to go about it, but he'd been wanting to know ever since then how it had felt to Jack.

As he lowered his lips to Jack's cock, which was looking more vital by the second at Daniel's attentions, Daniel got the scent of himself of Jack. The musty smell of his own seed and the clean sharp tang of Jack's sweat were strangely tantalizing and made Daniel's mouth water in anticipation.

His first tentative taste of Jack's cock was surprisingly salty, and it prickled on his tongue like seawater. He found it not unpleasant and bent to suckle on the head to chase up more of that flavour.

Jack's hands landed softly in Daniel's hair, teasing apart the sweaty strands with open fingers. Daniel pushed back quickly into his caress to let him know it was welcome before returning to his exploration.

Jack was hard now, Daniel's mouth felt the stretch and heft of it against his lips and tongue as he sucked gently and kissed and licked the way he remembered Jack had.

When Jack's thighs tensed and his stomach muscles tautened, Daniel looked up to meet his eyes. Propped up on his pillows, Jack's gaze was dark and he held his bottom lip tightly between his teeth. He moaned a little as he slipped from Daniel's mouth.

"Daniel..."

"Shhhh. You shouldn't overtax yourself. Now lay quietly and relax or I'll stop."

Jack smiled indulgently, but Daniel gave him a glare that he hoped implied that he meant every word. It was true - this was really too much excitement for a convalescent, but Daniel wanted to give this to Jack, to return some measure of the pleasure he'd received since he'd met him.

Daniel settled himself more comfortably, and took Jack in again, keeping a soothing hand on his belly. He felt Jack tense again as he began to mouth his shaft, but after a second, Jack took a deep breath and seemed to melt, his limbs loose and his hips still.

Taking his time, Daniel knew, would give Jack time to adjust to the sensations and concentrate on staying relaxed. So Daniel worked slowly, his fingers tracing swirls and arcs across Jack's skin, his mouth soft and encouraging rather than hot and demanding. His jaw ached and his lips were sore after several minutes but Jack was humming softly and Daniel felt he wouldn't care if he had to stay there all night.

So well had Jack followed Daniel's instructions that the doctor was taken by surprise when Jack finally came. His only warning was his name whispered hoarsely, then his mouth was filled with that same briny, musty taste that he had licked from Jack's skin. Jack's climax was as prolonged as the work that had provoked it, and Daniel found himself able to swallow between the soft spurts that painted his tongue.

Finally, Jack rolled his hips, pulling himself from Daniel's mouth with a wet pop.

Daniel couldn't help the incredulous smile that spread across his face, making his jaw ache further. Looking up at Jack, pink, sweaty, healthy and happy, and knowing that his care had achieved this, was enough to make Daniel's heart trip.

He crawled up beside Jack, and settled his head on Jack's shoulder, working an arm across him and falling asleep almost at once.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

Waking up with Jack, and having the leisure to truly appreciate it was something Daniel would always be grateful for in the years to come. He ached in unusual places and his face still felt warm from the prickling of Jack's beard, but the well-being and simple happiness of this quiet quarter hour, sharing smiles and soft words was a treasure beyond price.

Daniel finally rose when the church struck eight, knowing Mrs. Treagus would be along soon enough. He washed them both, dressed himself and found Jack a clean shirt, then quickly stripped and remade the bed with Jack teasing him from his chair as he watched.

He got the sheets in the sink to soak just before he heard the back door open, to his heartfelt relief.

Jack joined him for breakfast in the dining room, looking better than ever. He'd even had Mrs. Treagus bring him soap and water, and shaved his beard off, making him look rather too handsome and distracting in Daniel's opinion.

It was a bittersweet happiness that propelled Daniel through the day. He had several house calls to make in the morning, and had an open surgery in the afternoon after issuing Jack strict instructions to stay quiet in his room. There were no emergencies, and nothing that worried Daniel unduly, just the usual list of aches, pains and sniffles that were his living.

His mind strayed between consultations to the man resting in his bed, reading his books and abusing his housekeeper. He knew that Jack was soon to be gone again, and while that made him melancholy, he would not have changed a thing that had transpired to bring them together. If Jack had not attempted to rob him, if he hadn't found him again later than night, if he hadn't been shot and delirious enough to come and say goodbye to him, thinking himself to be dying, then Daniel would have lived only half a life, and never have known that he was capable of the strength of emotions that Jack brought out in him.

He would probably have married, have been happy even in a contented, distracted way, but never have suspected that he was a passionate man. He would have been afraid of his own desires, a shadow of what he now knew himself to be. Jack had changed him forever and given him a happiness he hadn't known before, however fleetingly. Daniel couldn't bring himself to be sorry for that.

Jack was quiet that evening. He had eaten a good meal at dinner and insisted that Daniel stop watering down his wine. They sat beside the fire in the parlour after Mrs. Treagus had left for the night, Daniel looking over his notes and Jack reading Robinson Crusoe again.

Once in a while, Daniel would look up to se Jack staring into the fire, a look of disquiet on his face, then he would catch Daniel watching, and give him a grin or say something outrageous to try to make him blush. Daniel privately thought that Jack was out of luck, and after the past few days, that his days of pink-cheeked embarrassment were probably over.

When the clock in the hall struck ten, and Jack had been vacantly staring at the same page for over twenty minutes, Daniel thought it was time to speak.

"I know you have to go," he said softly to his page. "I don't have any illusions about how this works, Jack."

Jack sighed and put the book down, but Daniel continued checking his papers, giving Jack the option of ignoring him.

"I don't want you to think that I've betrayed your hospitality, Daniel. I wouldn't take advantage of your kindness, despite how it might appear."

"I believe you," Daniel said, turning a page without having understood a single word of the last one.

"It's too dangerous for me to come here often. People will notice, and although Molly loves you enough to keep her lip buttoned, others might not be so discreet. Even if they don't know my business, it will still reflect badly upon you to have gentleman visitors who don't join you in church or who aren't seen hobnobbing around the village."

"I know," Daniel said simply. He had thought of every angle, every plausible excuse for Jack to have the freedom to come and go, but Jack was right. A reclusive 'friend' would be cause for greater gossip than a highly visible one – and Jack couldn't afford the chance that he might be recognised.

"But maybe I could come by night once in a while? Or I could meet you elsewhere sometimes?"

Daniel looked up from his work into Jack's obviously nervous face. He licked his lip and twisted the belt of his dressing gown in restless fingers while Daniel stared at him.

This was much more than Daniel had expected - more than he'd ever have dared ask for.

"If you would like," Jack added, belatedly.

"I would like that very much indeed," Daniel replied in as level a tone as he could manage.

Jack smiled and sat up straighter. "Really? It won't be easy, it could even be dangerous, Daniel. You'll have to be incredibly careful. And I'll only be able to get word to you rarely..."

"I understand."

"I'd understand if you felt the risk was too great."

"I don't. I'm prepared to take that risk."

"And it might be months between meetings, I wouldn't want you to let chances of happiness pass you by, waiting for..."

"Jack."

Jack stopped and winced, biting his lip.

"I understand how difficult it will be, and I accept anyway," Daniel said calmly, even though his head was spinning and his heart was racing at an alarming rate. "Now would you like another log on the fire or shall we retire to bed?"

Jack smiled in obvious relief put his book on the table at his elbow, drained his glass and got to his feet. He paused, waiting for Daniel to join him.

"I still have to lock the door, see to the fire and wind the clock," Daniel smiled. "If you start now, I'll still be in bed before you."

"Heartless cur. I can see my affections are sorrowfully misplaced in such a man as yourself. You've been spending too long with that housekeeper of yours," Jack grumbled as he turned and made his way across the room with badly exaggerated caution.

~~::~~::~~::~~::~~

The first thing Daniel noticed when he awoke the next morning was how still it was. His heart sank as he realised what that meant. Jack was not a quiet man to sleep next to; he muttered, he snored softly, he breathed with a deep, contented rumble that Daniel had come to find quite comforting.

Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, the pillow beside his own was empty, the dent where Jack's head had lain still apparent. Daniel didn't jump out of bed and try to find Jack – they had said their goodbyes last night, albeit without Daniel realizing that they were goodbyes. If Jack had had anything to add, he would have woken him before he left.

Daniel rolled onto his back and scratched idly at his belly, where Jack's semen had dried into the hair below his navel. He knew he should get up – he had sheets to change, a bath to take and a day without Jack to face. But he lay there a little longer wondering whose horse would be found to be missing later this morning.

He was struck by the sudden thought that he'd been wrong to think that he didn't know Jack. Maybe he didn't know the circumstances under which he'd become an outlaw or where he slept, or even whether Jack was his real name. But Daniel did know, with a bone deep certainty, that Jack would be coming back.

He noticed a piece of paper tucked beside his pillow and knew a moment of worry until he opened the paper to find only a single line of text.

_I hope you are not inconvenienced, but I have borrowed your book. J.O._

Daniel smiled, although he knew that his weeks would pass more slowly, marked by the arrival of his copy of the London Evening Post each day, which he would scour for news of Gentleman Jack. He knew that if Jack was caught, that the newspaper would be Daniel's only connection to the man – no one was going to come to tell him in person.

He'd be lying if he were to say that he wouldn't worry – he knew he would be anxious until the next time he saw Jack. But it was what he had agreed to – his own choice, freely made. Now all he had to do was wait. And endure.

It was a high price, but as a wise man had told him, happiness was something you had to fight for.

Fin


End file.
